Reconciliation
by Redmobile
Summary: Sometimes Antonio watched Alfred; and he wondered how he could be so much like his predecessor.
1. Antonio

**Because the plot bunnies won't leave me be.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

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Sometimes he watched (_and he wondered_).

Alfredo looks so much like his predecessor that it was often hard to tell that he was a different man (_one thing Antonio would never admit out loud: he sometimes mentally referred to Alfredo by his predecessor's name_).

As he observed he noticed; they're just alike.

They had the same smile, for one, happy and full of life (_sometime he wonders if anyone else notices how that smile had a tendency to become more sly and mischievous; or maybe that smile wasn't _meant_ to be seen by anyone else_). And their hair falls the same way (_though the predecessor's hair was longer...and darker_). And their eyes hold that same shine (_he's seen the predecessor's eyes only once, as he'd always kept them covered, but he remembers the deep blue shine)._

Alfredo is so much like his predecessor.

It hurts to think about it.

But he still watches Alfredo (_he owes his old...friend, no...Antonio had no right to call him that, at least that much_).

But the lines between Alfredo and the predecessor are starting to blur. And its becoming harder and harder for him to see Alfredo as Alfredo rather than the predecessor.

Why? Why were they so alike?

He can almost see Alfredo dawning that dark skin; the only scars running across his back and torso. He can almost see the beads and feathers decorating Alfredo's long dark hair. He can see a pelt tied around Alfredo's shoulders, the head of the beast pulled over Alfredo's own as those blue eyes stare through empty sockets.

The predecessor wore the skin of many; sometimes making those skins his own has he morphed and formed into something else (_only he seemed to notice how __often Alfredo scratched and poked at his skin like it didn't fit; it's in those rare moments that he wonders if Alfredo can do the same_).

Antonio quickly decides he doesn't like the way Alfredo's skin looks on him. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, creamy pale skin on Alfredo would always be inferior to the Natives skin.

Because Alfredo was like his predecessor.

Maybe Antonio was biased. Maybe he didn't even have the right to form an opinion (_something he remembers to tell himself every time he finds himself staring at Alfredo_). But he swears that Alfredo is just a mask. Alfredo, from ignorance to arrogance, was a lie he told the world. Because there was no other way Alfredo can both be and differ from his predecessor.

Alfredo wasn't Alfredo; he just couldn't be.

Arthur would curse Antonio if he told. Arthur would insist that Alfredo was just 'Alfred and no one else,' he would swear and curse at Antonio, insist that Alfredo was the child that Arthur believed he raised.

But Antonio _knows_. He believes with all his heart and soul that Alfredo was anything but a child when Arthur raised him.

Tino would say different. Tino would assure Alfredo was only a child when he and Berwald first found him. But Antonio knew better; he knew that Alfredo would've been a child only in body when he was found (_Antonio, more than anyone, knew what the predecessor was capable of_).

The world would laugh at him if he ever told.

He wanted to tell Maria (Mexico) once, but stopped himself before he could. Maria hated him more than anyone else in the world (_not that he blamed her, he did kidnap her younger brother and herself just before killing their father_); she'd neither believe her uncle was alive nor that he was Alfredo of all people. He'd only cause her to hate him more.

So, bitterly, he keeps the secret to himself.

Alfredo was a great deal like his old self (_that tricky little fox who outran death_). Yet he hides well enough that only those who really _knew_ him could tell (_sometimes Antonio thinks he can see Matthias throwing Alfredo and his brother, Matthew, the same suspicious glaces; but he never brings it up_).

So for now he'll watch Talli from afar. Waiting for the personification of the land Natives walked to throw off his mask and laugh at the success of his latest trick; because Talli _would_ laugh at Arthur's horrified face.

Antonio would just wait. And wonder.


	2. Alfred

Talli.

Do you know what that name means? Nawww. Of course ya don't. Not many people do. The other nations sure as hell don't. But then again why should they know? How many people in other countries (_or even in my own country_) bother to learn Native American languages? Those languages are basicaly like Latin; dead.

It's a cryin' shame really 'cause during WWII speaking Navajo saved my Marine's asses. But my unfairly forgotten languages aren't the point of this conversation. The point is weather or not anyone knows what Talli means.

Alfred. Now there's a name everybody uses but nobody knows the meaning of. It means 'elf' and 'mystical' and shit like that. Man, you can just _feel_ the reason Arthur chose that name for me can't you? He totally did it on purpose to...

Back to the point; Talli.

I'm going to let you guess what it means. Here's two hints.

Hint one: I say it everyday.

Hint two: "I'm the..."

If you guessed anything other than 'Hero'; then I'm sorry to say "You're a dumbass."

So now you know what Talli means. Now you may be wondering; "But Alfred/America. Why are you telling us this?"

Well that's simple; Talli just so happens to be my name.

Now hold on and don't freak out. Yes; my name is Alfred. But that's just the name Ole Iggy gave me when he 'adopted' me. Talli was my name before all that.

Guys let me tell you something; If Iggy ever tries to make you into a colony he _will_ rename you. It doesn't matter how many times you point at yourself and say your name. I even learned a little English just to say; "Name...Talli."

The jolly ole bastard just kept saying; "No, no, no. Your name is Alfred. Say it with me; _Alfred_."

I just gave up on the matter after a while; still wanna punch Iggy in the face though.

But I'm getting off topic again.

So like I was sayin' before, my name is...well...used to be Talli.

That was back in the day. Before all those settlers came over and "Purged the savages of their wide beliefs and introduced them to proper society."

Bullshit.

They didn't mind us being 'savage' when we were giving them gold (_though to be fair that was mostly my brothers/sisters down south_).

But this isn't about that; this is about me. But my brothers and sisters play a big part in the story as well. And you probably wanna' hear the story by now don't ya? I wouldn't mind tellin' but hell, I don't know where to start.

So many things I could tell. So many moments that passed me by during my thirty-five-thousand-or-so-years. There are so many different beginnings I could start from...

But none of those stories matter anymore. This is a new world and nobody wants to hear about how I was born during an Ice Age or how I convinced my Twin brother to let me raise Inca, Maya and Aztec after Omlec died.

It's a shame too. I have sooo many interesting baby stories to tell about _that_.

C'est la vie.

Mattie deserves to know that he's the older twin of course (_and that he used to be one badass mofo' who'd shove a harpoon "Where the sun don't Shine" for lookin' at him the wrong way, Inuits man, they're hardcore_). But when I wanna tell him I suddenly remember, "No one cares" and leave it at that. Mattie is better off not knowing about Atka (_Alfred has no idea that Matthew has not-so-dreamlike dreams where he is a man by that very name_).

I could tell Maria; she'd like to know that her beloved uncles were alive. Alive and full of memories of her father and a culture long lost to her, stories and songs sung to her at night by a warm fire as a father rocked her back and forth. But if I tell her I'll have to tell everyone else in the American continents and I don't want the fact that I'm Talli getting around. Yet.

No one needs to know yet.

No one needs to know till they _care_.

One day I'll pull off my skin and grow my hair just to show, just to see their faces when they realized just who they were looking at. When they realize they don't know me like they thought and I was playing an unknown game with them.

Antonio already knew, of course; contrary to popular belief he wasn't stupid. Antonio and Talli had been close friends at a point (_and stopped being so around the time Antonio became a blood-thirsty, backstabbing, brother murdering, sister murdering, sociopath with a God complex, that the Aztec _didn't help _with_) and he'd realized who Alfred really was a some time ago.

Berwald also knew; he having been the one to provide a little skin for Talli to keep. Talli was talented in his works and needed no more skin that would fit the point of a thumb, which Berwald happily supplied. From Berwald's willingly given skin Alfred was born (_and Berwald would keep silent, Talli knew he would, because Talli had helped he and Tino once before and once after_).

Being a Skin-walker gave one more benefits than the Natives even knew (_Don't get your panties in a wad either, I didn't kill anyone to become a Skin-walker. I became one because they existed on my lands_). And those benefits kept most of the world ignorant of my identity.

Though I did play with the idea of telling Kiku, we're close friends (_though it would be awkward explaining to Kiku about his relation to the Emishi_), but I dropped the idea. Kiku was as polite a friend as they came; but ya didn't wanna tell him something like that.

Sadık (Turkey) and Gilbert were, surprisingly, also good friends I could have told (_even when, as nations, they weren't). _But those two were people I don't want to tell the two of them either; one gets drunk and runs his mouth while the other gets angry and runs his mouth.

End the end I can't share my name with anyone. Though, like I said, I wouldn't if I could.

Because they never asked.

No one ever asked me about the Native Americans.

I would've thought Yao would; having been Talli and Atka's half-brother. You think he'd ask about his half-brother's fate.

But no one cared enough to ask.

So I'll just sit back and wait. I'll peal my skin soon, just to see their faces (_my spirit animal was a fox once, and my familiar a rabbit_) and I'll smile as Author's eyes widen in horror, as Francis stutters in confusion, as the Scandinavians step back with widened eyes, as Maria screams and curses me (_along with the rest of the American Continents_) about keeping it a secret and worrying her sick, as Abeline (Greenland) rushes forward and demands to know where her father is (_Because there is no Talli without Atka_) as I point to a confused Mathew, as Yao bristles and rants about me being a horrible relation for not informing him of my living status.

It may cause complete and total chaos; but I sit back a smile through it all.

(_I am, after all, a tricky little fox_).


	3. Yao

_"I don't believe an accident of birth makes people sisters or brothers. It makes them siblings, gives them mutuality of parentage. Sisterhood and brotherhood is a condition people have to work at."  
~Maya Angelou_

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If you asked Wang Yao how he felt about Alfred F. Jones he would lie to your face. He would launch himself into an hour-long rant about immaturity, disrespect, terrible manners, financial ignorance (conveniently forgetting that, once upon a time, Alfred was a financial power house that both earned and demanded the respect given to him), and overall stupidity. He would stand on the threshold as one of the top five people who outright hated Alfred for everything he was or has ever been.

But, again, that would be an outright lie.

In truth Yao found himself quite fond of Alfred.

A small part of him, a part Yao had hid under lock and key in the deepest recesses of his mind, knew why he was so found of the young boy...

But he didn't want to think about those two. When he thought about them unwanted memories from a very dark time in his...theirs..._everyone's_...life played with his head. Bringing about sickening thoughts and instincts that _just weren't necessary _for survival anymore. Those thoughts were from a time when everything froze over in ice and snow, when crops died and the bodies piled higher and higher and higher till at some point you just stopped counting because there were _just to many_. It was a time when people were at their worst and the world was at its worst and _it's just best left forgotten_.

Neither he nor they were at their best during such a time.

Yao himself had been brutal at best, resorting to cannibalism, developing a strong case of tribalism, barley holding on to the tattered remains of a culture that he has since then lost. He'd long abandoned his sense of self during those horrid days of ice and corpses; all history had seemed so meaningless when all who surrounded him had gone mad from the grief.

His own memories had failed him, leaving nothing more than a half mad shell of his former self. There had been no sense of what remained around him, all he'd known was that there weren't any crops and the animals were dying and he _needed to find food before he withered and faded_. And the dead filled his belly just nicely.

And those two...

He only remembers they had been siblings.

Those two were twins, he remembered that much, but he couldn't remember whether he was the older or younger brother. And perhaps it didn't even matter in the end. The only thing that mattered were those brief moments, the still-fading memories of happier times he'd foolishly forgotten in his madness.

(He'd_ taken those memories for granted_)

He remembers that one of them, the one whose name started with an 'T,' that was the one Alfred reminded him of. They acted almost the same, if he recall correctly, though 'T' had been a bit more mischievous. 'T' and Alfred were both very playful, full of sunshine and smiles and happy grins. They were childish, playing tricks with well hidden wit and taking cover beneath a mask of obliviousness.

But 'T' had been an mystery, someone whose intentions you could never be sure of (_with the soul exception of the twin brother whom rarely left his side_), but never once was he wicked.

And that was all Yao could remember.

But that was a lie.

He remembers a frozen bridge of ice and snow that he refused to cross. Be it Destiny or Fate he would not cross. And perhaps it was meant to be, maybe an unseen hand had held him in place while the threads of eternity weaved together and the universe set itself down the path that was chosen, but he'd simply refused to leave.

He stayed, choosing a familiar hell versus the fate that lay unknown passed the icy waters. And he watched his brothers go, propelled by the same force that held him in place, down that bridge they traveled till he could see nothing but white in the distance.

'Surely they died;' he'd thought for many years. And he could only be thankful that he'd been blessed enough to receive the path that lead to survival rather than a cold death by the sea (_A part of him, buried within his heart, would never admit his wish to have been with them_).

Eventually the madness passed, as did the cold and the snow. The crops grew back and the sun shown in the sky again. Slowly, ever so slowly, his people rebuilt their lives from the ground up and settled into an easier life. And, suddenly, everything was alright again.

Oh...but the lies he tells.

Everything hadn't been simply 'alright.' Something was missing, gone forever and leaving nothing more than an empty hole in his chest. Only regret seemed willing to take its place near that spot in his heart. Perhaps that's why he clings the siblings he has now. Because he'd always held those feelings of failure and abandonment so he'd been determined not to fail these siblings as he'd failed those he'd forgotten.

But we don't get to make those decisions; do we? Life will go on as it pleases and it will not bend to the wishes of a single soul. Some siblings died (like Wei, Wu, and Shuu) while others moved on to escape his rule (Kiku); but no matter what his attempts always seemed to fail.

Alfred, no matter how unintentional, was a painful reminder of failures.


End file.
